Danny Phantom and the Order of the What?
by RosyThorn
Summary: Who are these cultists in robes and what do they want with Danny? Where is Danny? Rated T cuz it gets fairly dark, no darker than the books though.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Harry Potter or Danny Phantom. I would be doing this for money if I did.**

Chapter 1

* * *

"I want to know how he does it."

"Danny, we've already investigated multiple times and every time it's a wasted effort. I think you're just going to have accept it as one of the unsolvable mysteries of life and deal with it."

"This is the fifth time today, Sam. The fifth time today! I don't understand how he does it! None of the other ghosts can do this! He's driving me insane! I just wanted to eat dinner in peace!"

"BEWARE! And prePARE for your DOOM!"

Bam! Danny's forehead hit the restaurant table of the Nasty Burger in exasperation.

"Duty calls, dude!" Tucker teased between his cackling.

Without lifting his head off the table, Danny warned, "Tucker, I swear I'll hurt you if you don't stop laughing."

Tucker, sitting next to Danny and across from Sam, tried to comply, but his face contorted with the strain of holding the laughter in.

"RUN in FEAR of the ruler of ALL things SQUARE and CUBED!"

Tucker threw his head back and howled at the Box Ghost's proclamation. Danny sat up and gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with his elbow.

"OUCH! Okay, okay! I agree! The box ghost is getting annoying! Just go deal with him a already!"  
With that Danny, the shortest of the trio, slid out of their booth and rushed to the the back of the restaurant into the bathroom.

Once inside Danny quickly scanned the room and it's three stalls to make sure there weren't any ghost traps or any other occupants in the room.

" _I'm so paranoid._ " He sighed "Going ghost. Again."

A white ring of light appeared around his waist. The light then split into two rings and repelled away from each other. Causing one ring to travel up, while the other launched downward. As the light traveled across his body. His red hoody, his plain, slightly baggy, blue jeans, and his old red sneakers were all replaced by a black jumpsuit accented by white gloves, boots, belt, and neckline. His pitch black hair changed to a pure white and his warm blue eyes turned to a glowing toxic green.

Grabbing the Fenton Thermos off his belt, Danny made himself invisible and flew through bathroom wall, into the kitchen area.

Sam and Tucker sipped their sodas silently as they watched employees and customers evacuate the building in a flurry and listened to the commotion in the kitchen. There was a shout of anger, a cry of fear, a rather destructive sounding crash, and a cry of pain. By the time their raven haired friend re-emerged from the bathroom everyone had cleared the restaurant, leaving the trio to themselves.

"Maybe Vlad is helping him out of the ghost zone to annoy me." Danny grumpily hypothesized as he slumped back into the red leather booth.

"That theory doesn't explain how Box Ghost gets out of the thermos," Tucker stated.

Sam groaned, "can we not have this conversation again?"

"Fine. Let's get out of here before the cops and paramedics show up." Danny sighed and started gathering up the left over food.

His friends nodded and followed suit.

Getting up and walking to the front counter, Sam reached over it and grabbed a couple of to-go bags.

"Hey, you guys hear about the Doom update they're working on?" She asked as she handed the boys each a bag. They all began to fill the bags with their leftovers.

"Yeah!" Tucker eagerly jumped in the subject, "I heard they're adding two whole levels!"

"Dude, are you serious?!" Danny exclaimed as they got up and headed for the door.

"Completely," Sam nodded once. "I heard a rumor that one of the levels is going to have cyborg zombies."

"No way! That would be so awesome! Can you imagine using the SG-Slasher x200 on a hoard of zombies?!" Danny excitedly pushed open the glass door and stepped out of the cozy restaurant air into the cool evening breeze.

Sam's eyes widened, "I didn't even think of that! That would be so wicked!"

The trio lazily strolled down the street as they enthusiastically continued the conversation on the different weapons that could be used on cyborg zombies, completely ignoring the emergency vehicles flying past. Once they reached their destination, a hidden corner of Amity's park that they had claimed to themselves as it was out of sight and rarely got any visitors, they made themselves comfortable on the overgrown grass and reopened their meals.

"Hey Sam," Tucker addressed, "me and Danny tried to call you yesterday to see if you wanted to play Doom with us, but you're butler said that you were in a session with a counselor. What's that about?"  
Sam groaned and rolled her entire head. "It is really that surprising? My parents think there's something wrong with me."

"So, they got you a psychologist?" Danny questioned and gathered his empty burger and fries wrappers and put them in his to-go bag. Once finished, he transformed and began hovering upside down and cross legged in the air.

"Not really a psychologist per say, but pretty much," Sam replied, not even blinking at her friends actions.

"Man, that totally sucks," Tucker sympathized as he shoved a fist full of fries in his mouth. "It isn't anything like Spectra, is it?"

"No Tucker, of course not. Spectra was a ghost feeding off our misery," she chastised disgustedly. Then she said with a grin, "Mrs. Harper is actually really cool; she thinks my parents are full of it."

Danny's eyebrows were scrunched together in seriousness and worry. "You do know there's nothing wrong with you, right Sam? You're one of the greatest people I've ever met."

Sam laughed a little at the conviction and intensity Danny spoke with while he was upside down. Then blushed a little and replied, "of course I know nothing is wrong with me. But thank you, Danny."

Danny crossed his arms. "I'm just stating the truth."

Tucker was about to make a snarky remark at the touching exchange, when faded red markings in the grass below Danny caught his eye. After studying them for a few seconds Tucker realized that they were solidifying and slowly expanding.

"Um, hey guys? What is that?" He pointed at the ground.

Danny looked up at the ground and tilted his head in confusion. Slowly, Danny flipped over and landed, kneeling on the ground to touch the curious markings. As soon as Danny's fingers made contact with it, it began to glow.

"Whoa!" Danny jumped back into the air.

Then the red markings started to run like water, creating more lines and squiggles. Tucker and Sam got to their feet and backed away as the markings approached them. They all watched in fascination as the flowing lines all connected making a giant circle with a heptagon inside it and a seven pointed star inside that. Danny couldn't make sense of any of the smaller symbols and writing inside the circle.

"Danny! That's a summoning circle!" Sam gasped.

Tucker shot a questioning glance at Sam.

"How do you know wha-" Sam glared at Tucker. "Right. Goth. Got it."

A little surprised at the revelation, Danny tried floating backwards out of circle. But, much to his dismay, it followed him, keeping him in the center. "But I'm not summoning anyone! I don't even know how to sum-"

"Danny, I think your the one being summoned!" Sam cut him off.

They were all silent with wide eyed shock for only a moment, before the circle surged and the glow began pulse, getting brighter with each pulse.

"WHAT DO WE DO? HOW DO I STOP IT? I HAVE HOMEWORK DUE TOMORROW AND I DO NOT FEEL LIKE DEALING WITH THIS SORT OF THING RIGHT NOW!" Danny yelled, slightly panicked.

The red glow was almost blinding at this point.

"CALM DOWN DANNY! Just turn human! YouCan'tSummonAHuman!" Sam said in a rush, not feeling very calm herself.

"Right! Duh, I'll do tha-" With one final pulse Danny was gone. His friends gaped stupidly at the fading crimson circle until it completely disappeared.

"We're going to need the boo-marang," Tucker stated.

 **Elsewhere.**

"-at." In a flash Danny changed back into his human self, clumsily dropping to the ground with a thump. But before Danny had been able to complete the word, he had felt a strange and sudden sensation in his ghostly core. It felt as though something had grabbed it and given it a sharp tug. The odd sensation had been gone and replaced by exhaustion by the time he had finished speaking. The kind of exhaustion one gets from pulling an all nighter with no caffeine. Then the smell of copper and ash hit him like a ton of bricks. The copper smell had a weird hint of road kill to it.

"Oh no." Danny thought with clenched teeth "that's blood. A lot of blood."

Danny's stomach pinched and twisted, threatening to empty it's contents in protest to the overpowering smell. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath through his mouth to avoid the stench and calm his stomach. Green smoke blocked anything and everything from view. The green smoke stung his eyes and burned his throat as he inhaled it. He got to his feet ignoring the exhaustion and the need to puke, the stone floor and lack of breeze told him he was indoors. But the only thing on his mind was that he wanted out of the smoke and away from the smell.

Someone said something from behind Danny, causing him to tense into a defensive stance as he pivoted towards the voice. The smoke suddenly cleared faster than he thought possible. He was in a dungeon like room, surrounded by a group of people in black cloaks and white skull masks. Some of the masked figure gasped as the smoke cleared.

He carefully turned. Silently taking in the dark room and it's contents. There where about twenty figures, all evenly spaced and in a perfect circle with Danny in the center. At the feet of each figure, sat a wooden bowl with wispy trails of smoke that seemed to be slowly dying out. That's when Danny noticed that the red circle had followed him here, only now the circle wasn't glowing and it looked like it had been carved into the stone floor and filled with blood. Behind some of the figures there were lumps or bags of something laying on the floor, but his view was obscured and it was too dark to really make out what they were. He finally rested his gaze on the only person without a mask. Danny kind of wished he did have a mask on. The man was noseless with piercing red eyes and deathly pale skin. For a second he thought the man was a ghost or at least being possessed by one, because of his red eyes. But they lacked that unnatural, yet subtle glow. Even though the man was at least ten feet away, it felt as though he was way too close for comfort. Danny noted that he had a stick gripped in his right hand, kind of the way you'd see someone gripping a gun.

The man spoke in smooth and dangerous tone, "Greetings, I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, the one who has summoned you. Are you the Great Lord and King of the demons, Pariah Dark?"

"Huh? What? No, I'm not Pariah Dark." Danny's head was spinning. Whether it was from the potent

smell or confusion, Danny wasn't sure. Maybe it was both.

"Then who are you and why have you been summoned and not the Great Pariah Dark?" Voldemort demanded.

"I-I have no clue. Who are you? Please, don't tell me you're a cult, because I don't think I can handle-"

"I asked for your name, child." The dark lord demanded again with a creepily calm tone. It sent a shiver up Danny's spine and made his hair stand on end.

Danny shifted, hesitating, not really wanting to tell the man his name. Danny took his eyes off the man and quickly scanned for an opening in the circle of cloaked people and an exit to the room.  
Voldemort raised his right arm and said something in another language so fast Danny didn't have much time to process what the strange man was doing. Danny instinctively tried to dodge at the sudden movement, but apparently wasn't fast enough.

Danny crumpled to the ground, unable to breathe at first. The pain was nothing like he had ever experienced. His body involuntarily arched and his hands and feet seized. Once he was able to get air into his lungs, it was let out in a bone chilling scream. He wanted it to stop. His body jerked and twitched as if to get away from the pain, but it was everywhere. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, it stopped.

Lying on his back, tears streaking down the sides of his face, covered in sweat, and trying to get control of his breathing, Danny's mind raced trying to figure out what had just happened and how to keep it from ever happening again.

Danny frantically reached for his cold ghost core. He instantly decided that keeping his secret was not worth risking going through that again. But to his horror, he was unable to transform. Markings on the ceiling caught his attention as they faintly glowed as he tugged on his ghost core. He was powerless. His heart started hammering even harder in his chest.

"Your name." The demand came yet again.

"...D-Danny..." Danny managed to get out between gasps. He hated being told what to do, especially by creepy weirdos without noses, but not as much as he hated the idea of having his cause of death be pain.

"Your full name." This time it sounded like a warning that sent a chill into Danny's gut.

" _Don'tGiveHimYourRealNameDon'tGiveYourRealName_." Danny thought desperately.

"Daniel Jackson Masters," the lie came out of Danny's mouth before he could really process it. Danny visibly slumped when he realized what name he had given. He made a quick silent prayer that Vlad would never find out. Shakily, Danny slowly sat up and moved to stand. But his muscles ached and his head was spinning, so Danny opted to sitting on his knees with his feet underneath him. His stomach still protested against the potent and humid smell that hung in the air.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and the entire room stiffened. The boy in front of him was just that, an ordinary boy. He had an American accent and muggle clothing. Voldemort also noted that the boy, Daniel Masters, had backbone and a good head on his shoulders. The boy had been ready to defend himself before he was even aware of his situation and after he had inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on the boy, he had instantly wizened up, but wasn't sniffling and blubbering as many have before him. Voldemort could tell the boy was scared, terrified even. But he kept his wits about him and looked more nauseous than anything else. The Dark Lord assumed it was the smell of the sacrifices for the summoning ritual. Much to Voldemort's disgust he could see some of his own followers swaying, weak from nausea themselves.

Again the boy glanced around the room, looking for an exit. Voldemort would have smirked at the disappointment on the child's face as he realized the only exit was a set of double doors behind Voldemort himself, if he hadn't been so baffled and furious by the turn of events.

"Bring me the bookkeeper."

Everyone in the room flinched at the dangerously dark tone he had used. The Death Eater to his left bowed a little and quickly exited the room.

"My lord-"

"Silence, Bellatrix." Voldemort cut the question off, before it could be asked. Because he honestly had no idea what to make of the boy's sudden appearance.

He had just preformed a tedious and costly ritual to summon a king of demons, but he got a seemingly ordinary boy instead. And as far as he was aware, it was impossible to summon a being with a physical body. Portkeys and forced apparitions? yes, but cross dimensional summoning? No.

The boy in question started to get to his feet. The Death Eater to his right, Malfoy, raised his wand in warning. The boy stiffened and eyed the wand warily, before easing back down into a sitting position, looking incredibly irritated.

Voldemort didn't miss, and was sure that his followers didn't miss, that the child sat down with his feet underneath him, ready to spring up, and possibly run, at any moment.

"Daniel Masters, where are you from?" The Dark Lord asked in that eerie, calm tone that set his followers on edge.

The boy flinched at sound of his name and worry lit up his features as he hesitated in answering.

"You will answer truthfully."

The boy paled and stuttered out, "I-Illinois."

Danny knew he couldn't lie, but he also knew he couldn't let this creep know where his family lived. So he decided to be vague. To his surprise though, his answer seemed to satisfy his interrogator.

"How old are you, Daniel?"

"Fourteen," Danny ground his teeth together and tried not to look too terrified of the noseless, red eyed man. His mind was still reeling from the sudden change of hanging out with his friends to being stuck, powerless, in a room that smelled like death and blood (ClockWork, he hoped it wasn't human blood) full of torturing cultists that were trying to summon Pariah. But he was beginning to get frustrated with his own cowardice. He really didn't want to answer the man's questions but he still didn't dare do anything that might set this guy off. Being surrounded by cloaked figures, all with sticks like the one that caused the pain, and all towering over him since he was still sitting, was not helping either. Danny sent a quick glare at the symbols on the ceiling that were not glowing all innocent like, as he wasn't currently trying to use his ghost powers.

However quick the glare may have been, it did not go unnoticed.

"And are you a muggle?"

There were a few audible intakes of breath and the Dark Lords question. Danny racked his brain, trying to remember if he should know that word or not. When nothing came to him, he scrunched his eyebrows in slight worry and confusion. He didn't know how this guy would react to being asked a question. But he couldn't really answer without knowing what a muggle was.

"What's a muggle?"

A tense silence swallowed the room. Danny didn't know what a muggle was, but by their reactions to his question, he got a feeling that it's important. The mask-less man looked at Danny as if he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

The big wooden door creaked open, drawing everyone's attention, and the Death Eater that had left shoved in a scrawny, terrified looking man in light blue robes caked with mud, dust, and blood.

Voldemort turned his back to Danny, along with three of the masked figures to address the poor bookkeeper. Danny took this moment to suddenly launch himself into the figure just to the right of the leader. As soon as Danny had been off the floor the cloaked figures started shouting strange words and streams of light shot past Danny's head. Danny's target had turned back around just in time to receive and elbow to the stomach and the wind knocked out of him. Not slowing down, he used his momentum to twist the guy around and use him as a momentary shield, before shoving him into the freaky red eyed man. Danny dashed straight for the masked figure in front of the door. The man threw a stream of red light out of his stick, but Danny easily dodged, grabbed the man's extended wrist and spun behind the man, twisting the man's arm behind his back, causing him to drop his stick. Now with his back to the open door, Danny paused using his new human shield to block a few of the erratic beams of light. The man suddenly went stiff as a board and stopped moving underneath Danny's grip, as Danny stole a glance at the blue robed man, who had dropped down as soon as the commotion started and was now sitting on the floor next to him looking ready to piss himself. Knowing his chances were extremely low in getting through the door with bookkeeper without getting hit, he went for it anyway.

Danny bolted, grabbed a fist full of blue robe from the bookkeeper's shoulder and jerked him to his feet and shouted, "c'mon!"

Before Danny could make it to the threshold, something big grabbed him from behind and yanked him back. Danny lost his grip on the bookkeeper as he flew across the room and was slammed against the floor, back where he started. He grunted as the wind was momentarily knocked out of him and his elbow slammed painfully on the stone floor. Whatever had grabbed him still held him and began to lift him off the floor. Danny's eyes widened he realized he was being suspended in the air by nothing, nothing he could see anyway. The maskless man stepped forward drawing Danny's attention to the stick being pointed at him. Danny instinctively knew that the stick was at fault for his recapture and current suspension. Danny let out a growl of frustration and began to struggle.

"Let me go! You noseless creep!"

"How dare you!" Screeched the masked woman that had been silenced. "Crucio!"

Danny recognized the word, but couldn't do anything but take in a sharp breath before the pain hit. He gave a cry of shock as the pain initially started, but refused to cry out beyond that. Even though the pain was unbearable, it was not as bad as last time. Danny jerked, twisted, and withered in the air, not letting a sound escape him, but was unable to hold back the tears that overflowed. Panic set in as the pain continued and showed no signs of stopping. He desperately reached for his ghost core or anything that might take the pain away.

Voldemort watched in interest as the boy convulsed against the pain and the sigils on the ceiling glowed as they were activated. So, the boy wasn't normal after all. He lowered the boy back into the ground, who still refused to scream.

Bellatrix roared in frustration and hit the boy with the curse again. The boy let about an anguished wail and the sigils glow brightened, before fading completely.

"Enough."

She stopped immediately. The boy took in a few shallow, shuddering breaths, before rolling over and finally succumbing to the nausea he had been fighting.

"Bind him."

One of his followers immediately obeyed and cast a spell. Ropes sprang into existence and wound themselves around the boy, pinning his arms behind his back and his feet together, as he lay dazed on his side next to his own vomit.

Voldemort turned his attention to the bookkeeper. Twenty-seven year old, Andrew Bolten, had the misfortune of being born with a photographic memory. It was because of this gift that he was hired by the ministry as bookkeeper of all the forbidden books in the ministry's archive as he would be able to tell if a book was missing or had been replaced by just glancing at the bookshelves. But the poor fool succumbed to boredom and curiosity, and read nearly all the books in his charge, including the book on the ancient demon, Pariah. A forbidden book in the ministry's archive would have been difficult to obtain and would have surely been noticed rather quickly if it had gone missing. But an underpaid ministry worker? People go missing all the time.

Voldemort only had to glance at one of his followers for two of them to respectfully bow then glide over to the bookkeeper. Standing on either side of the man they hoisted him up and dragged him to their master.

The quivering man did nothing to resist the death eaters, but he paled and shrunk into himself as they neared the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters shoved Andrew Bolten to his knees, who fell further and land on his hands. He quickly back peddled, looking up fearfully.

"Do you know what that is?" Voldemort pointed to the struggling boy in the center of the room.

The man looked to were the Dark Lord was pointing and started hyperventilating. He received a kick to

the ribs and a demand to answer the question from one of the Death Eaters.

"I-I-I c-can't see without my-my gl-glasses," he stuttered out, starting fearfully at the ground and gripping his ribcage where it had been hit. "B-But it sounded li-like a boy?"

"It is a boy, Daniel Masters," the Dark Lord informed. "He is what was summoned."

"T-that shouldn't be possible. According to w-what I've read, a-a demon is c-completely made out o-of spiritual energy, they don't have a physical b-body. A-a-and you're using the demon's o-own spiritual energy to-to transport them he-here from, um, w-wherever they're fr-from. So-so it shouldn't b-be possible to do th-that with a physical b-body."

Andrew swallowed thickly and the Death Eaters took an unconscious step back when their master didn't outwardly respond. Just then another Death Eater rushed onto the room and knelt.

"My lord!"

"Speak."

"It is as you said, Dumbledore and his people have arrived! They're headed for the castle!"

Voldemort closed his eyes in fury and contemplation. He had known Dumbledore was on his tail and had known that he would show up tonight in attempt to stop the summoning. Voldemort had planned to stay and fight them and destroy them with the help of a demon king. But he had a boy instead. Voldemort also knew it would take another ten years for the constellations to align themselves again for the summoning.

Voldemort looked at the boy, who was struggling lightly against the ropes. The boy noticed his gaze and froze, staring right back like a trapped rabbit. The Dark Lord hadn't noticed before, but his followers had gagged the boy. They didn't have the time to write more sigils and he didn't want to move the boy without them, not until he knew what the boy was capable of. But they were out of time, Dumbledore was here. After a moment of contemplative staring, Voldemort came to his decision.

"Kill them both. We're leaving." He finalized and turned and left. Most of the death eaters following.  
Danny's eyes widened and his heart stuttered at the man's demand. His mind instantly turned into a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. His thoughts ranged from _'I can't get out, I'm going to die._ ' to ' _the jerk is just going to summon me and then kill me?_ ' In a panic Danny sporadically struggled against his bindings.

"N-no! No please! I've r-read more of the books! I-I-I could right them d-down fo-!"

"Avada Kadavra."

Danny stilled and his breath hitched as he heard the heavy thump of the bookkeeper's body hitting the floor. It was this horrible moment the Danny caught sight of the bags he had noticed earlier. Only now that the masked figures were gone and no longer blocking his view, he could see that they weren't bags at all. They were bodies. Eyes widening in shock, Danny's sporadic breathing came to a stop. With his attention locked onto one of the bodies unsettlingly pale faces, a young woman who had deep chocolate brown eyes and mouth hanging agape, he didn't notice being approached until a pair of legs blocked his view. He received a harsh kick in the shoulder causing him to roll over onto his back. Having his arms still tied behind his back made this position awkward and uncomfortable, but Danny didn't notice. He felt oddly blank and void of emotion as his mind raced for a non-existent solution.

Motionless, Danny watch as the masked figure raised that accursed stick and spoke.

"Avada Kadavra."

There was a flash of green and Danny felt like he had been submerged in ice. The cold stabbed into his bones and made his joints ache. But as quickly as it came, his core seemed to soak it all up. His icy ghost core thrummed with energy. Danny blinked at the odd sensation as it pulled him out of his shock.

The cloaked figure stumbled back a few steps.

"W-what?" The figure stuttered in a male voice.

He tried again, this time saying the words much harsher. He got the same result, except this time it wasn't as cold and Danny's core absorbed it much more quickly. His core felt ready to burst with energy and the tiredness from earlier completely vanished. In fact Danny felt like he could go a week without sleeping. The man in the scull mask stood there, seemingly at a loss as to what to do.

A distant, but loud explosion rumbled, making the two occupants in the room jump. The man snapped his head in the direction of the startling noise. Danny couldn't look from his position on the floor, but he could hear equally distant shouting. Danny watched as the hooded figure looked from the door to

Danny repeatedly. Then made his decision and left in a hurry.

Danny sat there stunned. He thought for sure that this was going to be the end for him. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Danny started working to get his shoes off, so that he might be able to slip his feet free. He knew it would be easier to slide his hands out as your wrists are smaller than your ankles. But he had already been trying with his hands to the point where they were raw and possibly bleeding.

Danny listened while he struggled fruitlessly against the knotless ropes. The yelling had stopped a while ago, now the only sound he heard was his own labored breathing. He cried out in frustration when the ropes refused to give even a little. Danny winced. His shout had sounded a lot less frustrated than he felt and a lot more panicked.

He needed to calm down. This isn't the first time he had been kidnapped, this definitely wasn't the first time he had no idea where he was, this isn't the first time he's been tortured, and this most definitely wasn't the first time someone had tried to kill him... or end him for that matter. But the whole cult and summoning thing was new.

Danny mistakenly stole another glance at the pale woman with big empty brown eyes. His breath got caught on a painfully tight lump in his throat. The woman wasn't much younger than his mom and she had a gaping whole in her chest where her heart should have been.

Danny blinked away the stinging blurriness from his eyes as he tried not to remember the sound of the bookkeeper's body hitting the floor or to imagine what the woman's last seconds had been like. Instead he tried to keep all of his attention on pulling and twisting at the ropes.

Eventually Danny had to take a break from the pulling and twisting, he was definitely not give up, as the only thing he was accomplishing was mutilating his wrists and ankles. He wasn't sure how long he laid there, trying to ignore the bodies and glaring at the markings on the ceiling, but it felt like hours.

Danny froze when he heard voices just outside the door. He flinched as the door swung open with a crash.

"My god!" A male voice choked.

"Keep your stomach, Kingsley," growled a gruff voice. "Sturgis, go tell Dumbledore we found Bolten... and the rest of them and that he was right, they were trying to summon a demon."

Sturgis didn't respond, but Danny heard retreating footsteps that he assumed to be Sturgis.

"Did they?" A new voice asked.

"Do you think they would have run, like a bunch of cowards with their tails between their legs, if they had been successful?" The gruff voice demanded angrily.

Again, there was no response. The group carefully made made their way into the room. Danny tried to calm himself down as it sounded like these people were here to help. But couldn't bring himself to make his presence known.

Then, breaking the momentary silence, the gruff voice stated, "that one's alive."

"Bloody hell!" A scruffy looking man ran to the middle of the room, accidentally kicking one of the bowls, sending it spinning, and knelt next to Danny.

"My god, it's a child." The first voice, Kingsley, exclaimed.

"It's okay kid," the scruffy man told Danny, "I'm going to get you out of here."

The man pulled one of those damned sticks and Danny's gut clenched with dread.

"Sirius, WAIT!" The gruff voice shouted, but it was too late. The scruffy man had already said a few words in a language Danny didn't understand and the ropes holding Danny evaporated. Not waiting a second, Danny jumped to his feet and gave the scruffy man a sharp right hook to the face. Then kicked the man's hand, sending his stick flying across the room and bolted for the door.

"KINGSLEY, STOP THAT BOY!"

Kingsley, who was obviously not as used to this kind of carnage as the other two, was closest to the door as the gruff voiced man had moved further into the room to inspect the pile of bodies. Danny easily ducked the man's attempt to grab him and made it through the door. He barely slowed down as he entered a hallway and chose to sprint right when he saw two people down the hall to the left. One was a blonde with the same build as Dash, his personal bully, while the other looked like what Danny could only describe as a wizard. He didn't dwell on this long and ran as fast as he could, repeatedly trying to transform with no success.

"STOP THAT BOY!"

Panic trickled down Danny's spine as he waited for that invisible force to grab him from behind again, causing him to push his legs faster. He rounded a corner, nearly falling over with the change in momentum. Danny knew he was a fast runner, like really fast. Dash and his goons have given him plenty of practice. But he also knew he couldn't run for very long. The yells telling him to stop told him he had a good head start and with a quick glance over his shoulder he confirmed that his pursuers had yet to turn the corner. So he immediately dove for one of the doors in the hallway, practically slamming into it, before he wrenched it open and darted in.

The room was a rather nicely furnished lounge with a fire place and bookshelves lining the walls.

"Huh, evil cultists use couches." Danny noted to himself quietly.

Upon seeing an old and useless looking broom leaning in the opposite corner of the room, Danny darted for it. Keeping the broom leaning against the wall at an angle, Danny grabbed the top and stomped on it, just above the head, breaking it off. He winced at the snap that resonated in the room, probably giving away his position. With his new make shift weapon in hand Danny searched for a place to hide. A large, promising looking cupboard across the room caught his attention. Without a second thought, he leaped over a couch and darted for the cupboard. The cupboard was old and the little black doorknob wouldn't quite turn all the way. The fast approaching voices echoed down the hall.

"C'mon, c'mon, come on!" Danny mumbled to himself as he wrenched at the knob. With a sudden jerk and click, the knob finally relented and the door flew open. Danny stepped inside and shut the door, clutching the broom stick tightly with both hands. He settled his breathing until it was barely audible. The voices of his pursuers were getting uncomfortably close, when suddenly Danny was falling... up.

* * *

 **Any Potterheads that notice anything off at all, please let me know. I like Harry Potter, but I'm not incredibly well versed.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Not sure when I'll be posting next, so until next time.**

 **Rosy is out, peace!**

 **Date Posted: 2-1-17**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woah.**

 **Hi.**

 **There are a lot of you reading this.**

 **It's not like I'm nervous now or anything. Not at all.**

Chapter two

* * *

 **Sometime before the summoning**

Sirius stroked Buckbeak's wing that hooked around him and lay in his lap as he lounged against the hippogriff's shoulder. He strummed the individual feathers with his thumb as his hand slowly past across them. Buckbeak himself slept contently behind Sirius, supporting his back. The muffled voice of Mrs. Weasley caused Buckbeak's ears to twitch in the direction of the disturbance as she yelled at her twins.

"I much preferred it when it was just you and me, Buckbeak," Sirius sighed.

Buckbeak lifted his head at the sound of his name.

"You know, when we weren't stuck in this damned hell hole with a family of thirty, but running around in hiding."

The hippogriff nudged Sirius's elbow with his beak and Sirius started stroking Buckbeak's head. Buckbeak closed his eyes in contentment. With his thumb, Sirius gently rubbed the soft skin just above the hippogriffs beak. In response he yawned and began to purr deep in his chest.

"I know, we are safer here and there's food... But you can't say you don't miss flying."

Suddenly, Buckbeak stopped purring and got up, causing Sirius to fall over backwards, and trotted to the other side of the room. Sirius sent a bewildered glance and asked,

"What'd I say?"

He didn't receive any response from the creature, he just kept his eyes on the door. Then the door swung open, revealing a disheveled red faced Molly Weasley. Sirius looked back at Buckbeak with a look of betrayal. The hippogriff stared back uncaringly.

"Mr. Black!" Molly snapped at him for reasons beyond his knowledge, "Dumbledore needs you in the dining hall."

"Dumbledore is here?"

"Yes! He's here!" She answered as if it was his hundredth time asking and stormed out of the room.

"As much as I enjoy and support the twins' pranks, they ought to consider pulling back a bit." Sirius said from the floor.

Buckbeak cooed and Sirius took it as an agreement.

Sirius's intentions had been to trudge into the dining room and slouch into his chair, fully displaying how miserable and unhappy he was with his (and Harry's) current arrangements. He completely understood _why_ , but that didn't mean he was going to comply with a smile on his face. But all thoughts of self pity and bitterness immediately vanished when he opened the door to the dining hall. The gravity of the situation became clear with the number of members that sat around the table were Sirius had once eaten dinner with his mother, father, and sister.

Looking around, Hagrid, Molly, Charlie, Hestia, and Aberforth were the only members Sirius noticed missing.

Tense uncertainty and questioning dread overwhelmed the room. Several members glanced at him upon arrival, but no one said anything, as if breaking the silence might provoke the oncoming storm. Dumbledore stood at the end of the table, not with the grave tiredness that accompanied news of someone's death, but with the air of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and ready to take on more. Mad-Eye Moody sat at the end of the table near the headmaster with a strange ashen intensity on his face. Before Sirius could ask if Harry was okay, Dumbledore spoke.

"Please, have a seat, Sirius."

Nodding silently, Sirius made a point to ignore the sense of impending doom and sat down between Lupin and Mr. Weasley with a false bravado showing that he was ready to take on anything. Fake it 'till you make it, as they say. The barest hint of a smile momentarily lifted the headmasters face at the display, but it left before Sirius could notice. Already, Lupin looked calmer and Mr. Weasley less like he was preparing for his death, which subtly eased the rest of the room.

"Now that all who will be here is here, we shall begin," Dumbledore spoke to the room. "There is a good amount of information that I have to reveal and explain. Please, remember the oath of secrecy that you all made in joining the order, it is of the utmost importance to your safety and the safety of others that you keep silent on whatever you may learn tonight. I am afraid that we are limited for time, so, if you could, keep questions to yourself the best you can until I have finished."

The hesitant nods he received from Arthur and Tonks seemed to satisfy him and he continued.

"Many years ago, not long after wizards hid themselves from muggles, practices of interacting with demonic entities were common."

"But demons don't-"

"I can assure you, they do exist. Now please, Sirius, let me finish," Dumbledore implored. "These entities varied in strength and power, but all were considered unruly, unpredictable, and even the weakest of them can be destructive, therefore, they were a danger to anyone involved. There were few who were able to reason with or control the creatures, while many others attempted to, only to bring about their own demise. It's recorded that the most powerful demons were capable of leveling out entire cities in a single night. Given this, the wizards in power at the time made the executive decision to eradicate the practice of summoning or any interaction with demonic beings. Those who continued the forbidden practice were hunted and executed, and all records of demons were destroyed or locked away. The Ministry of Magic is current in possession of a number of these records.

Another reason for the banning of these practices is that magic is not required for a summoning."

"Wait, what?" Stirgus spoke up in shock, "are you saying _muggles_ can preform a summoning?!"

"That is precisely what I am saying. Wizards attempted to remove the knowledge of demons from muggles, but every attempt proved futile. I personally believe that it is because the demons were much more resistant from being cut off from muggles then they were with wizards, seeing as wizards would prove more difficult to over power. But the mere fact that muggles are capable of the practice caused Voldemort to see it as beneath him in the past."

"In the past?" Lupin breathed out, already knowing the answer.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"Andrew Bolten, a bookkeeper of the Ministry's archive of forbidden books, went missing a fortnight ago. Something the ministry has found pertinent to keep quiet and out of my knowledge. You are all aware that there have been many others since then. I can confirm for a fact that Voldemort is behind their disappearances. But that's not the worst of it, I'm afraid. Around eight years ago, the Ministry found and kept an ancient book. The book contains all that is known on what the book claims to be 'the King of Demons'."

"Tomorrow night," Mad-Eye continued with a mixture of a matter of fact attitude and deadly seriousness that only he could accomplish, "Saturnus, Venus, and Murcurius will align. Many summoning rituals draw from planetary alignments and Saturnus and Venus are a powerful combination. With this and the number of people who have been taken, it is more than likely that the Dark Lord will be attempting to summon this'King of Demons'."

"Are-are you absolutely sure?" Arthur asked, licking his lips and faltering under the attention of everyone present. "I mean, if-if… _they_ are so difficult to control, wouldn't he- wouldn't he-who-must-not-be-named want a… demon that wasn't too powerful to control?"

"I do not believe that Voldemort's pride would allow him to attempt to summon anything less."

It took a moment for the information to set in for everyone present. Tonks was the first to finish processing and asked from the other end of the table, "so, what are we waiting for? How are we going to stop this from happening?"

Dumbledore gave her a proud smile and stated, "we only require the location Voldemort will use for the summoning. The ones not here tonight are currently gathering that very information; we should have it by morning if all goes well. Until then…we must prepare for battle."

 **Later**

To say Sirius was disappointed would be a little bit of an understatement. He had been ready for the fight of his life, but as soon as they broke into Lagras' castle, one of the Dark Lords hideouts in the middle of nowhere, the Death Eaters fled. He had only seen three in total and he hadn't even been the one to deal with them. Now he was searching the castle with Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley, and Sturgis for Andrew Bolten and the other missing people

"That door there," grunted Mad-Eye, gesturing to a pair of large wooden doors.

"Why this door, opposed to all the other doors we've passed?" Sturgis asked grumpily.

He didn't receive an answer, just a long condescending glance, with both eyes.

Kingsley patted Sturgis on the back and reminded him in a hushed voice, "he can see more than we can."

Sturgis nodded, slightly embarrassed. Then the he noticed Sirius headed for the door.

"Wait! Shouldn't we check for hexes?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, locked eyes with Sturgis and kicked the door open with a loud crash.

All reprimands for Sirius' reckless stupidity died in the owners throats when the sight beyond the door met them. For Sirius, all thoughts of boredom left him as he suddenly wished to be back in the hallway fruitlessly searching.

"My god!" Kingsley choked through the smell.

"Keep your stomach, Kingsley," Moody growled warningly. The man's eye scanned the room, paused a little on the ceiling, then moved on to scan the body just in front of them, and then started frantically darting to different points on a pile of what could only be more bodies, all within three seconds. "Sturgis, go tell Dumbledore we found Bolten... and the rest of them and that he was right, they were trying to summon a demon."

Sturgis didn't even nod in reply, he just left.

"Did they?" From Sirius' very limited understanding of summonings, it looked like they had already finished.

"Do you think they would have run, like a bunch of cowards with their tails between their legs, if they had been successful?" Moody snapped.

Sirius begrudgingly admitted to himself that Mad-Eye had a point. Mad-Eye cautiously made his way over to the bodies, while Sirius inspected the body with the blue robes a few feet from the door. Kingsley tried to move into the room further, but didn't make it more than two meters. He's eye's had adjusted to the darkness of the room and he caught sight of a young woman with chocolate brown hair and a hole in her chest the size of large fist. Nausea threatened to steal away his dignity and usefulness, but Kingsley forced it down.

"That one's alive."

Mad-Eye's statement effectively got the other two's attention. They followed his gaze to the center of the room.

"Bloody hell!" Sirius honestly had no idea how he missed the kid tied up in the middle of the room with red sneakers laying next to his socked feet, but he had. Faster than some would think humanly possible, Sirius was kneeling at the kid's side, halfheartedly avoiding the blood and vomit on the floor and ignoring the bowl he sent clattering across the room.

"My god, it's a child!"

The kid, tightly gagged, looked up at Sirius with wide uncertain eyes.

"It's okay kid," he reassured him. "I'm going to get you out of here."

As soon as he cast the spell to unbind the kid, Mad-Eye yelled at him and the kid jumped up and socked him in the jaw. The kid didn't have a great arm, but the punch had taken him completely off guard, as well as the sharp kick to the hand.

"KINGSLEY, STOP THAT BOY!"

Kingsley made a feeble grab at the boy with no success. Sirius was about ready to pummel Mad-Eye for scaring the kid off. But seeing the look of slight panic on the veteran's face, Sirius realized that something was off. Suddenly the whole situation settled wrong in his gut. Mad-Eye took off after the boy.

"STOP THAT BOY!"

Sirius took off as well, passing a worried and extremely confused Kingsley. He made it into the hallway just in time to see the kid disappear around a corner at the end of the hall. That kid was fast.

"Wait, kid! Stop! Come back!" Sirius quickly passed the peg legged grump and rounded the corner, then skidded to a halt. The kid was gone.

"SIRIUS, DON'T LET THAT KID GET AWAY!"

Mad-Eye also lumbered around the corner and slowed to a stop, followed closely by Kingsley, Dumbledore, and Sturgis. Moody's eye swiveled wildly searching the hallway. His normal eye rested on the floor, where periodic smears of blood trailed to the second door to the right. The boy had gotten blood from the summoning circle on one of his socks.

"He's in there," Mad-Eye stated and started for the door.

Sirius stopped Mad-Eye by grabbing his arm.

"Mad-Eye, wait! Why ar-"

"Get off of me, Black. We don't have time for this." Mad-Eye tried to shrug Sirius off, but Sirius tightened his grip..

Mad-Eye growled and rounded on Sirius, so that they were nose to nose.

"I said get off of me, Black."

A loud snapping noise came from the room the boy hid in, causing everyone to pause and look at the door.

"Alastor, Sirius, please calm yourselves," Dumbledore cut in in an authoritative tone. Once the two backed down he continued calmly, "Alastor, the boy is in that room correct?"

Mad-Eye nodded.

"Are there anymore exits besides this door?"

Mad-Eye's eye swiveled around towards the room. "No, but there are more ways to leave a room, Dumbledore."

"Yes, that is true, but unlikely, given the number of charms and wards put on the castle to prevent just that."

Mad-Eye looked like he wanted to argue, but chose against it.

"Now," Dumbledore looked sharply from Mad-Eye to Sirius and back. "Would you care to explain why we are chasing a frightened child through the Largras castle?"

Mad-Eye gave a long irritated sigh, before explaining himself. "As Stirgus may have already told you, Dumbledore, we found a summoning circle, along with Bolten, who seems to have been killed with the killing curse, while the others are all missing their hearts."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and heaved a tired sigh. He seemed to age ten years before their very eyes.

Moody continued, "seven sacrifices it would seem. There was Wolf's Bane that had already been burnt, which makes me think they've already attempted the summoning. But the lad was alive, bound and gagged in the middle of the circle and some of the sigils written on the ceiling had been activated."

The old wizards tiredness drained away and was replaced with a stern alertness. "That is concerning. Are you sure the sigils were activated?"

"Yes, Dumbledore."

"You aren't suggesting he's what they summoned, are you?!" Sirius asked, uncrossing his arms.

"You can't be serious!" Kingsley exclaimed.

"He's just a kid, not even Harry's age!" Siruis tried to reason. "He looked terrified and the punch he threw wasn't anything I would peg as otherworldly."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, "he punched you?"

"And kicked his wand out of his hand." Moody informed disapprovingly.

Sirius scowled at Mad-Eye's tone. "That is besides the point! Do you really think that kid is some sort of demon?! It was just a kid!"

"Do you really think there is nothing suspicious going on? Didn't you think it was odd that he was the only one left alive?" Mad-Eye glared at Sirius. "The only one bound and gagged? In the center of the summoning circle? If you weren't always blindly rushing into things, you might have noticed something wasn't right!"

Again, that feeling of wrongness nudged the back of Sirus' mind, but he ignored it; it was just a kid.

"So what if he was alive? Maybe they hadn't gotten to him yet! Or maybe they needed a living sacrifice! I don't know much about summonings, you don't know much about summonings, because they've been taboo for so long, no one really knows anything about summonings!"

"Exactly my point! We don't know enough to understand what's going on! But there is something very wrong with the circumstances we found the boy in! You can't deny it, I know you feel it too."

"The kid isn't a demon! And he's definitely not the powerful demon king we were fearing!"

"That is not necessarily what Alastor is implying," Dumbledore answered Sirius.

"Then what, then?" He demanded in return.

"The only explanation I can think of is that the lad is a vessel for whatever they summoned," Mad-Eye answered. "The sigils meant to weaken spirits and demons were activated. And I will say there didn't seem to be anything off or wrong with the lad, but we can't take that chance."

"You are right, Alastor, this does indeed raise some concerns-"

Minerva Mcgonagall suddenly appeared next to Dumbledore with a small pop.

"The wards are down. We can now apparate as we please. We've managed to capture three more Death Eaters, they've been put with the rest. But beyond that it seems You-Know-Who's followers have all left. What are you all staring at? My presence can't be that surprising, can it?"

"I apologize, my dear," Dumbledore spoke. "I'm afraid you interrupted a rather tense conversation."

"Surly now is not the time to be arguing." Minerva admonished.

"A bit of a problem has come up ."

Minerva arched an eyebrow on her stern face.

"A boy has been found and there is reason to believe that he was meant to host the demon they summoned."

"And where is the poor boy now?!"

"He ran and hid in there." Sirius pointed, answering like a student being reprimanded by his teacher.

Immediately she marched for the door. Mad-Eye stepped in her way and started to say, "you don't seem to understa-" but Minerva cut him off.

"I understand enough! There is a boy in there that may or may not be carrying the demon inside him, more than likely against his will! And the lot of you are standing here arguing over who knows best while he is hiding in fear after who knows what he's been put through by the Dark Lord! I WILL HAVE NONE OF IT!"

She shoved past him and went to look for the poor boy. Moody silently but unhappily followed along with the others. Minerva immediately calling out to the boy and when she received no reply she cautiously began to search the room, while Moody ignored her and followed the blood trail to a broken broom. From there the trail started fading, but it was still visible and it lead right up to a cupboard. Upon seeing the cupboard, Moody let out a low growl and threw the small door open.

"He's gone."

"What?" Minerva halted her search.

"It's a transporting cupboard. He's gone."

"Can't we follow him?" Sirius asked.

"Don't be a moron, Sirius!" Moody barked, "this enchantment isn't meant for living people!"

"Wait." Dread threatened to crush Sirius then and there, "does-does that mean..?"

"That entirely depends on how far the journey is, I'm afraid," Dumbledore answered the unfinished question grimly.

"We need to find the other side of this cupboard now!" Minerva angrily demanded with an undetectable tremor of worry.

 **Elsewhere**

Danny was falling. Danny was falling and he couldn't _breathe_ ; his breath had been forcibly sucked from his lungs and now there seemed to be no air to replace it. He didn't even feel any wind as he fell through a void at unknown speeds. He also couldn't see anything. Everything was just a black void, later he would wonder if he had his eyes closed. No, on second thought, this wasn't falling. Danny knew falling. He was being pulled, or maybe sucked or pushed. He didn't really know, but there was definitely an outside force involved. He couldn't move, and he. couldn't. _breathe_!

Suddenly, there was wood underneath him and he crumpled. His face suddenly smacked into a wall, but the wall just as suddenly moved out of the way and he fell. _This is what falling is._ Luckily, it wasn't too far of a fall, he met wooden floor boards rather quickly. His wrists began to sting with new vigor in the areas that the ropes had rubbed raw when they hit the floor. But as soon as all the movement stopped, Danny involuntarily, yet happily, sucked in as much air his overworked lungs could hold. After a moment of recuperating, he started to catch up with reality again. He had been summoned/kidnapped and he was currently being chased, and now he was no longer hidden. His sweaty hand still tightly gripped the slick broomstick. Still breathing irregularly, Danny started to get up and looked over towards the entrance to make sure no one was at the door yet, only to blink in confusion. The evil cultist lounge was no longer there. Instead, a small room lit by a lantern with a flickering candle hanging from the ceiling, cluttered with boxes, old furniture, and jars, lots and lots of empty glass jars, and smelled like musty rugs and an old wet sponge greeted him.

Danny jumped to his feet, backing away from the cabinet he fell out of, but definitely did not climb into. After realizing what must have happened Danny growled, "Arg! Would the universe, you know, _stop_ moving me around to random locations?!"

A door behind him slammed open and he immediately spun around, holding up his broomstick the way he had seen his mom hold her bo-staff.

A woman stood frozen in the doorway. She had a morbidly decrepit face pinched into a permanent snarl. Her back curved, giving her a harmless, yet creepy appearance. Gray wiry hair sprang out of the painfully tight bun on the top of her head.

One second they were gaping at each other, the next she was jabbing one of those sticks in his face with her gnarled finger and screamed with glee, "I CAUGHT YOU! I'VE FINALLY CAUGHT YOU! STEAL MY ROSEMARRY WILL YOU, YOU FILTHY THEIVING RA-"

Her rant was cut short when Danny, in his panic, used his staff to whack the stick-weapon out of her hand, but he underestimated her grip. Instead of the stick flying across the room like he intended, it snapped. There was a small sizzle of light as the stick snapped in half. The shocked silence was only interrupted by the tip of the stick ratting across the floor.

Her eyes, widened in horror and her mouth hung open in shock quickly twisted into pure fury, making her twice as ugly as before. Danny took this as his cue to leave. He shoved past her, causing her to break out of her shock, and she began screeching obscenities he had never heard in his life. He slammed the door shut and braced himself against the door. Looking up he found himself behind the counter of an old, antique themed, spice shop. The shop was crammed with shelves and shelves of glass jars full of what he could only assume to be spices.

A man, presumably a customer, placed a small jar back on one of the shelves and glared at the dirty, shell shocked, halfa.

"What did you do, boy?" he asked accusingly and advanced towards him.

Danny, who didn't need anymore encouragement, leapt over the counter and bolted for the front door. A little bell tinkled as he flew out the door and into the cold night air. He barely paused to choose which direction to run in the deserted street that was too narrow for any kind of motorized vehicles. Something nagged in the back of his brain that something was off, he didn't have time to worry about it now. His socks quickly soaked up the water from the damp cobblestone as he sprinted down the alley.

The old woman's screeching echoed through the night and down the alley; she was outside now. Danny then remembered the first rule of running away from danger: run to safety. But he had no idea where safety was; he had no idea where _he_ was. A candlelit lamppost caught Danny's attention. Beneath the lamp, the post had a street sign that read: Knockturn Alley.

The information meant nothing. Coming to a junction, Danny made a hard right onto an equally abandoned, yet wider, alley with no place for cars. Then, halfway down the alley, a warm, welcoming light pooled across the cobble. Sounds of echoing laughter and music grew in volume with the light. Two people stumbled out of the doorway, swaying and laughing. A part of Danny wanted to cry with relief, but the fighter inside of him remembered the male in the spice shop taking the old hags side; these people may not provide the help he needed.

But his feet throbbed, his sides pinched and ached, his lungs burned, and he still couldn't go ghost; he didn't see any better options. Plus, the door was close and the screeching woman was actually getting closer. A window on the other side of the alley caught his eye. With the dark, he couldn't be sure if what he thought he saw was accurate, but it had looked like it was a shop for antique brooms. Ignoring the broom shop, Danny shot past the two drunks, through the brick archway, and through a wooden door to stop in the middle of a shabby pub full of people with drinks in hand.

He had grabbed everyone's attention in the bar. Everyone had gone quite, the loudest noise in the room was his own panting and the profanic screams coming from outside.

Locking eyes with the bartender, Danny simply stated, "I need help."

Laughter broke out through out the bar. The bartender joined them, but motioned for Danny to hide behind the counter. Sending him a grateful nod, Danny ran and leapt over the counter then ducked down, holding his broomstick close. Not even a second later the old hag appeared in the doorway. Her breathing was unpleasantly loud as she marched up to the bar.

"TOM!"

"I'm going to ask you to watch your volume, Gertrude." Tom told her calmly, but the quiet drunken snickers offset his polite approach.

"Don't mess with me, Tom! Where is the little rat!?"

Danny couldn't help but notice that she had done as Tom asked and quieted down, somewhat.

"The Leaky Cauldron doesn't have a rodent problem, Ma'am."

"THE BOY, TOM! WHERE IS THE BOY? I KNOW HE'S IN HERE! I SAW HIM COME IN HERE!"

"Minors are not allowed in the bar after ten. Now, please leave, we are celebrating the 575th anniversary of the Leaky Cauldron and you are disrupting the atmosphere." Tom scowled at the old woman.

Danny couldn't see the hag's reaction, but he could hear the customers laughter and shouts of agreement.

"He's a thief and he-!"

"Boo!"

"We don't want to hear it! Just get out!"

"Leave, you old gillywart!"

"FINE! BUT I WILL-!"

"SCRAM ALREADY!"

There was a distinct splashing noise and the sound of a heavy cup hitting the floor, then roars of laughter. Danny watched the wrinkly face of the bald bartender named Tom as his eyes followed the hag out of the bar. It was obvious when the hag had finally made it out the door; Tom's face considerably softened and he looked back down at Danny.

"Don't worry, you can come out; she's gone." He informed over the laughter.

Danny slowly stood up and everyone cheered, for reasons beyond him. The attention and all the noise made him consider bolting again.

"There he is!"

"What did you do to her, Sonny?!"

"Tom! Give him a drink!"

"Yes! Let the lad drink!"

"Aright, alright! Enough of that!" Tom barked, "leave the boy be and go back to partying! Except for you, Bolderth! You clean the mess you made!" He pointed to the discarded wooden tankard on the floor.

The loud group crowed at Bolderth's misfortune and quickly moved on as Tom had asked. The bartender turned back to the Danny, taking in his appearance with a small frown. Normally, Danny would have felt self conscious under such scrutiny with the blood on his jeans and puke on the shoulder of his sweater, but at the moment all the oddities of the bartender had come to his attention. He had a British accent that didn't quite sound like the British accents Danny has heard. Also, Tom wore a tunic and an apron straight out of medieval times. In fact, everyone the bar wore strangely out of date clothes or robes. One lady, who sat at the bar scowling into her drink, wore a rumpled, bright green business suit. As if feeling his gaze, she glanced up at him. A spark of greedy curiosity shimmered in her beady eyes as she too scanned him up and down over her cat eye glasses that haphazardly sat on the tip of her nose, setting Danny further on edge.

"What's your name, young man?" Tom asked over the noise drawing Danny's attention away from the woman.

"Huh? Oh uh, Danny. Danny, my name is Danny," he stuttered out through his dry throat. "Thanks for helping me with… Gertrude…"

Tom grinned, "It was my pleasure, Danny. But isn't it a bit late for a young man, such as yourself, to be running around bothering old witches?"

Someone on the other side of the bar stumbled up onto a table and began belting a completely nonsensical song that everyone seemed to know and enjoy. A woman with bushy black hair threw her head back, laughing, a little too far and lost her balance. The man next to her tried to catch her, but they both ended up on the floor, both of them practically screamed with laughter. All of the noise grated on Danny's eardrums; he wanted to leave. He wanted out of the cramped and terribly warm building. He wanted a breath of the fresh cool air from outside.

Absently, Danny rubbed at his was something wrong with his core. The first and most obvious problem was he still couldn't access his powers. If he had to explain it to someone he may have told them it felt as though someone had wrapped his ghost core in plastic wrap; he could feel it through the thin barrier, but couldn't touch it. That lead to the second problem: It felt ready to explode. It felt too big for his chest. It buzzed with energy that begged to be released. It was highly uncomfortable and he couldn't sit still because of it. Even now his hands agitatedly twisted and tapped the broomstick and his feet wanted to move, to run. He needed to get home.

"Where are your parents, Danny?" The kind bartenders voice cut through the racket.

He hadn't noticed Tom squat down, getting closer and lowering himself past Danny's height. Suddenly, the nagging in the back of his head that insisted that something was off came back with answers in tow as Tom's words sunk in. It was night.

"We, huh, we were separated. How-how late did you say it was?"

"It should be about midnight…" He trailed off, eyebrows scrunched in worry causing his forehead to wrinkle even more.

"But… It wasn't even… I just had dinner with Sam and Tucker…"

Danny begun desperately digging through his jean pockets and nearly cried out in relief when he felt the scratched surface of his old flip phone in the front pocket. He flipped it open. Practiced fingers had already started punching in Jazz's cell number before he realized his phone wasn't on. His eyebrows crunched in worry, he could have sworn he had charged it last night. After mashing the power button a few times, he dryly licked his lips. Looking back up at the innkeeper, he missed Tom's confused expression and asked, "do you have a phone I could use? I need, I need to call my parents."

"A _fown_? I'm not sure what that is... But I have a bit of floo powder and a fire place you can use."

"A phone! You know, the thing you use to call…..What would I use a fireplace for?"

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He wasn't really sure what to say. So instead he pressed his lips together, not sure how to help the boy when they were completely misunderstanding each other. It could be because the boy was American.

Tom brushed off the strange interaction and over on, "here, let's get you cleaned up and then we'll figure out how we'll get you back to your parents."

Tom reached into the front pocket of his apron and pulled out a wand.

The drunken song ended and people cheered. Icy panic froze Danny as everything he had seen since he had been sitting in the park with Sam and Tucker raced through his mind and _clicked_. The _magic_ sticks, the restricting symbols on the ceiling, the teleporting cabinets, the robes, the broom store, the time change, the strange clothes, the strange British accent, the lack of anything electronic, _the summoning,_ it all added up. He was in different dimension, different timeline, different world, a different _something._ Getting home just became much more complicated.

In Danny's small state of shock, he didn't move as the barkeeper gave the wand a small flick, said, "extergeo."

Suddenly, his clothes were no longer damp with sweat, and the smell of blood and ash vanished.

 _Tom was one of them._

Danny needed to get out, to run, to fly, to disappear. But all he could do right now was run. So he did. He ran over the bar, out the door, and through the crowd in the small courtyard.

Some drunken soul shouted, "there he goes again!"

Danny ignored them and sprinted down the alley. This time he noticed more of the buildings he passed: Potage's Cauldron Shop, Quality Quiddich Supplies, Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, the Daily Prophet, Magical Menagerie. But the Second Hand Brooms and Apothecary caught his attention and favor; there happened to be a narrow gap between the two buildings full of boxes and hiding places.

After confirming that no one had actually followed him, he darted into the dark corner. Easing around the wooden crates, Danny saw an old, rickety ladder with moss growing on the rungs that lead to the roof of the Apothecary shop. At the top of the ladder, he found plants. Lots and lots of overgrown potted plants. A small, abandoned green house with a few cracked glass panes and shrubbery spilling out of it sat in the middle of the rooftop. He tentatively climbed over the ledge, keeping an eye out for any movement. The leaves of the plants rustled and swayed in the small breeze, a dog barked in the distance, but other than that, there was no sound and no movement. It was quite and he was alone.

He collapsed onto the ground. For a minute he just laid there, watching the sparse clouds drift across the moonless sky. The adrenaline finally began to wear off and left his limbs feeling heavy, soggy, shaky, and useless. Adrenaline rushes seemed to always make him extremely thirsty. This time was no exception, his mouth was dry and his throats had already begun to turn into sandpaper. Swallowing thickly, he ran a trembling hand through his surprisingly clean hair. Curiosity piqued, he slowly sat up into a sitting position, looking himself over. His jeans and sweater were spotless as if they had just been through the wash. He sniffed the sleeve of his sweater and it even smelled fresh out of the drier. He experimentily ran his hand through his hair again, not a speck of dandruff.

"Magic." Danny stated out loud to the empty roof.

When the roof made no move to either confirm or deny the statement, Danny groaned and flopped back down on the roof.

"I hate magic! I was done with magic after one ghost, for crying out loud! But now everyone can do magic?! What level of hell was I summoned to!?" He ranted as loudly as he dared, throwing his arms in the air in a lighthearted and exasperated manner that didn't match the level of worry that twisted at his gut.

He had no idea how to reverse a summoning, if that was even a thing. He also wasn't sure if this place was connected to the Ghost Zone like home was. He assumed so, Frostbite did call it the Infinite Realms for a reason, but he wasn't sure. That meant the chances of finding a natural portal potentially dropped lower than the normal sliver of a chance. He knew he had absolutely no chance without his ghost half, though.

His core throbbed against the barrier. The discomfort was now approaching borderline pain; it wasn't that bad but it was getting worse and Danny had no idea what to do. He sincerely hoped that the markings worked like the Plasmius Maximus in that it only lasted for a few hours.

He lifted his head as his stomach emitted a small growl and a dull ache, reminding him that he had lost the majority of his dinner not too long ago.

Sagging his head back onto the roof, Danny heaved a sigh and closed his eyes as if to block out any other problems that might make itself known.

"This reeks."

* * *

 **Thank you guys for all your support and enthusiasm for this story.**

 **I had a few wonderful people point out some flaws that totally didn't make me want to slam my head against the keyboard and die a million and one deaths.**

 **Like the whole Beatrice \ Bellatrix thing…**

 **(Thank you, guest #5)**

 **The original plan was to stop the chapter as soon as Danny read the Knockturn Alley sign. So, you know. You can ignore the fact it took me six months to post again and be greatful I didn't cut this chapter in half.**

 **Reviews are appreciated and reread over and over and over and over.**

 **(Not a Pineapple, you made me laugh, thank you.)**

 **Rosy out!**

 **Date posted: 7-26-17**


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